


Five Times People Thought You Were Dating

by TheWalkingDebt



Category: That '70s Show
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cute, Denial of Feelings, Drugs, F/M, Female Reader, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Reader-Insert, Some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-09 01:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14706260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingDebt/pseuds/TheWalkingDebt
Summary: Because a guy and girl can't just be friends?





	1. Old Schoolyard

_ “Which one's yours?” _

 

“See the girl there? She's our little baby.”

 

_ “Oh, I know that boy with her. Terrible situation really, but he seems like a good kid. Don't they look adorable together?” _

 

“Is he helping her climb the slide? Oh, honey, didn't we tell her not to do that?”

 

**“Kid's gonna learn the hard way, I guess.”**

 

_ “Kids are mischievous. But they'll learn from their mistakes. Always do.” _

 

**“Where are his parents?”**

 

_ “His mother's probably home. Who knows where the father is. She doesn't come outside much, and when she does, well… it's not for the best of reasons.” _

 

**“I don't know if our child should become friends with a kid who's home is like that…”**

 

“Oh listen to you. It's not like they're getting married, dear. It's just a day. Let her play with him. They look so sweet together.”

 

**“Alright, but when they run off to get married, don't go blaming me.”**

 

“Now you're just being silly, dear.”


	2. Gimme Shelter

“So, uh, welcome to casa de Hyde,” he swung the crooked door open on creaking hinges. You stepped inside, looking around curiously. Hyde pushed up his sunglasses and followed you in with a sigh. It had taken much cajoling and coaxing to get to this point with Hyde. He didn't trust easily, but you two had been friends for your entire lives. If that wasn't a good base for trust, what was?

“It's… cozy,” you turned and smiled at him. But the cramped home was dark and smelled bitter like weed and alcohol and… bodily fluids. Given how often Hyde crashed at your house just to avoid this place, you imagined the smells weren't due to him.

He looked around uncomfortably, glasses on and guarding his true expression, “So, this is where little Hyde grew up. Great digs, right?”

“I'm glad we're friends,” you grabbed his hand, smiling warmly. “So you don't have to be here. So you didn't just grow up alone in this place.”

He smiled hesitatingly, drawing a bit closer, “Yeah, me too,” his voice was quiet.

The bedroom door blew open at that point, slamming against the wall, and startling the two of you to look in its direction.

“Aww, lookit the lovebirds,” Edna slurred, slumped over in the threshold, smirking wide. Her face was pink and eyes sunken. “My son finally brought a girlfriend home?”

“She's not…”

“We're not…”

You both started at once, glanced at each other, and dropped it. No one ever believed you when you two said it.

“C'mon,” Hyde whispered your name, leading you to the door by your hand.

“What, ashamed of me, Steven?” Edna glared, trying to straighten. She had a bottle in the other hand, revealed by the dim lighting.

“Well now that you mention it, yeah, a bit,” Hyde shot back, frustrated. “I thought you were out with one of my many ‘uncles’, or maybe locked in a cell for public indecency.”

“What can I say, I'm good at avoiding trouble,” Edna shrugged casually, nearly falling over once she left the doorway propping her up. She seemed like a dead woman walking, and you could never imagine sending Hyde to this sort of home ever again. You wanted to offer your parents’ guest room as cover and shelter for him, so he never had to come here ever again.

“Not good enough,” you could feel Hyde trembling through your connected hands.

“We're leaving,” you murmured, loud enough for Hyde to hear.

Hyde followed, much to his mother's chagrin, but you ignored her increasing volume and hoped Hyde was too. Your hand clenched tighter around his, and he ran his thumb over the back of your knuckles.


	3. Girls! Girls! Girls!

Let’s be honest, no one bothered to remember Kelso’s first girlfriend’s name. She lasted about a week, and he forgot about her a week later. You think it was Becky?

“Hey everyone, this is my girlfriend, isn't she hot?” Kelso grinned like the idiot he was. You looked up from where you sat next to Hyde's chair.  _ Bewitched _ was on, and you hated when it was interrupted. Especially when you were leaned up against Hyde's legs and comfortable. She was blonde, probably. Everything else was rather bland and unoriginal, your typical cheerleader type that most guys would probably find hot. Hyde didn't even glance at her, gaze fixed on the black-and-white screen.

“Oh wait, don't tell me, Michael's told me all about you guys,” Bethy flapped her arms at him, grinning. She pointed at Eric. “That's Eric, Hyde has the weird hair and glasses, um, redhead is Donna… and Hyde's girlfriend?”

You laughed as Hyde sputtered, “Uh, no. Hi,” you waved and introduced yourself. “Not the girlfriend.”

“But you're all cuddled up,” Betty frowned, as if you two were in each other's arms or something. You tried not to roll your eyes, heart speeding in your chest at the thought. It would never happen.

“Yeah, well, that's what happens when you don't have enough chairs and someone's waiting for you to move so they can steal your seat,” Hyde faked a scowl at you. You smiled wide and sunny right back.

“He's so paranoid,” you laughed, slapping his leg, which led to him nudging your shoulder, and would've turned into a real tussle if there wasn't a guest around. As is, it was your basic slap fight.

“So,” Bitty scrunched up her forehead in thought, “you're not dating.”  _Not a smart one, huh?_ Not that you were all that surprised. Kelso didn't tend to date for brains when boobs were right there and easily accessible.

“No,” you shook your head slowly, enforcing the thought in this girl's skull.

“Yeah, that,” Hyde muttered in agreement, staring at the TV screen.

They broke up when she made a move on Hyde. You do remember slapping the hell out of her, if nothing else.


	4. Have a Cigar

“Hey,” Hyde's voice hissed into your ear, pencil eraser poking the back of your neck. “I need a smoke.”

“So, go smoke,” you muttered back. “First floor bathroom is perfect for that.”

“Outside,” his breath was warm on your skin. “C'mon, we'll skip bio. No one will notice.”

“That _you're_ gone, you always skip bio,” you looked over your shoulder, catching a glance of his bright blue eyes and smirk.

“You know your problem, you're a stick in the mud. A genuine square,” he shook his pencil at you, flat-faced. He knew this was a good manipulation tactic - goading you. It only worked from him. Maybe because you cared very little about what others thought, aside from Hyde.

You frowned, sighed, and nodded. “Fine. Asshole.”

His smile grew broad, “Sweet. Meet you after class.”

“Right,” you were going to get in so much trouble. At least it would be with a friend.

Hyde met you by your locker, pulling off his usual cool guy slouch, sunglasses and all. He looked, head to toe, like a parent's worst nightmare. Hippy, vaguely socialistic, reefer-loving punk. Damn you that you found it attractive.

“Everyone's gonna know what we're doing if you stand like that,” you joked, putting your books away.

“Nah, I told everyone we're hooking up in the bathroom so they won't look for us outside,” Hyde replied casually, examining his fingernails.

“You what?!” you slammed your locker door shut, staring at him red-faced. He only laughed, and you punched his shoulder. “You asshole!”

“Okay, okay, I didn't,” he chuckled, rubbing the spot you hit him. “I was kidding.”

“I'm not rescinding my previous description of you,” you narrowed your eyes, quickly retrieving your purse with your favorite smokes and light inside. Hyde always bought the cheap stuff. If you were gonna get sick with lung cancer and die, you'd like it to be at least a little worth it.

“C'mon,” Hyde took your hand. A practiced motion from childhood, derived from your mother’s instructions before crossing a street. Now it was used whenever you or Hyde felt like it. It added a small sense of security for the both of you. “There's a great spot near the garbage bins…”

“Joy, fresh garbage-scented air,” you snarked but followed all the same, trying not to smile.

“Like we're getting fresh air anyways with all this noxious smoke we're pulling into our lungs,” he smirked, threading his fingers in yours.

“Maybe it's a government conspiracy,” you waggled your eyebrows. “Getting us all to willingly take in small tracking devices or something.”

“Maybe,” Hyde shrugged. “But some things are worth being spied on for.” He opened the exit door for you with a little bow and wave. “For you, milady.”

You stared at him suspiciously, “You're being weirdly nice to me.”

“You're being weirdly… weird,” Hyde scoffed, but you thought you saw pink in his cheeks. “Hurry, before some rat sees us.”

You headed out with a backwards glance, but you shrugged off the odd feeling gathering like a ball in your chest. Hyde shut the door behind you and pulled out a battered box from his jacket, tapping out a single cigarette. He quickly put it to his lips, snapped a light for it, and drew in a deep breath; he let out a stream of smoke with a sigh.

“That's the good shit,” he shook his head, relaxing. You snorted, stealing his hand in yours, and taking a drag. You coughed it out, scowling.

“Cheap shit, Hyde,” you returned to your brand and didn't see how he stared at his cigarette in a mix of disbelief and jealousy. Instead, you sat on the bottom stoop and enjoy the warm breeze. Even if it did smell a bit putrid.

Hyde took a seat beside you, thigh to thigh, “Yeah, well, I like the cheap shit.”

“Reason one thousand four-hundred and thirty-six why you'll never get a girlfriend,” you smirked, flicking ash at him.

“Yeah well, I don't want a girlfriend anyways,” Hyde snorted, fixing his face into a scowl. “It's all a giant Hallmark-sanctioned scam of BS to control the masses.”

You raised your eyebrows over his vitriol, “Wow, so how’s your period been going, Broken Heart Barbara?”

“Shut up,” he laughed, shoving your shoulder, and you counted it as a win. Especially since he didn't stop there. He adjusted, with his elbow balanced on your left shoulder, wrist dangling with the cigarette clamped between two fingers. You naturally leaned in - his musky odor, the faintest trace of marijuana, and nicotine scent a familiar mixture to you. It was easy, being with Hyde, and you loved that. Despite the way your heart raced around him, and sometimes your palms did get really sweaty, and even when he gave you that stupid smirk and seeing his blue eyes… well, all that diminished nothing.

It meant nothing, of course. You ignored the quivering inside of you, trapped it down, and beat it to death with a thousand baseball bats.

There’d be none of that.

“You know,” Hyde got closer, lips closing on his cigarette without moving his hand. His eyes looked up at you just over the rim of his rose-tinted sunglasses. He said your name, wreathed in grey plumes, and was very, very close to you.

He was about to say something, his mouth was opened, his eyes were half-shut, and your heart was about to burst from your chest.

“Ahem,” you both turned to see none other than your vice principal standing behind you.

“I knew we’d get caught,” you groaned.

“Lovebirds, inside,” the stern man jerked his head towards the door.

“We’re not lovebirds,” you both denied in sync with similar, irritated expressions.

“Well aren't you lucky, detentions make great first dates,” the man smirked.


	5. Stuck in the Middle with You

_ “Who’s that with your daughter? The boy with the afro.” _

“Steven? She’s known him since they were little. Oh, it was adorable. So, she was trying to get up the slide by herself. Which we told her not to do, of course. But he, the rascal, taught her how to grip the sides with her tennis shoes. The rest is history, I guess.”

**“He’s got a reputation, but he’s good around her. Respectful to us.”**

_ “He looks like a bit of rough kid.” _

“Well, he does… really he’s not…”

_ “Are they dating?” _

**“No. God no, I’d never allow that.”**

“Oh, dear, well, I mean, she says they’re not, but… darling, look at that. Aw, they’re sitting together.”

**“In my house? I’ll kill him.”**

“No you won’t. He’s a good boy, and they’re adorable together. Don’t go over and ruin it all.”

_ “Well they seem very… sweet on each other.” _

“They’re not dating. She’d tell me if they were. I’d know. Wouldn’t I know, dear?”

**“You were the one that said they wouldn’t get married. Now look at ‘em.”**

“Even if they were dating, I think it’s good that she would be able to have a relationship with her best friend. Would you prefer her having some strange boy over we’ve never met?”

**“How about just no boys at all? There. Problem settled. She won’t date.”**

“Oh now, don’t be ridiculous. She’s going to date at some point…”

* * *

 

“Cover your ears,” you hissed to Hyde, passing him the can of Pringles. “I hear my mother plotting.” Even from the couch, you knew exactly what she was talking about. She made it very obvious, what with the darting looks and hushed tones. She and Dad always got into some talk about you and Hyde whenever he came to a family party.

“What, about us getting married again?” Hyde scoffed, ears red, eyes focused on the snack food.

“Probably,” you glanced at her, seeing her and your dad stop looking at you in that moment.

“Dad still hate me?” Hyde popped a chip in his mouth.

“He doesn’t hate you, he hates what you represent,” you responded cheerfully. “Youthful males that all wanna get in my pants and steal me away from him.”

“I don’t, I just…!” Hyde sputtered, dropping the chips and spilling a few. “I don’t wanna get in your pants!”

You stared at him oddly, “Okay then. But still. Youthful males. Trouble. All that. Whatever.” You couldn’t ignore the confusion and small amount of pain swirling in your gut at his rejection. You grabbed the chips from the ground and cleaned up the mess, “You’re being weird, Hyde. Just ignore my parents’ talking. It doesn’t mean anything. It never has and it never will.”

“Right,” Hyde nodded, wishing for his sunglasses. Unfortunately, your mother had confiscated them the moment he walked in. She didn’t want him looking shady in front of company. Well, shadier. “You wanna come over to Forman’s after this?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, offering him the can. “What’re we gonna do?”

“I dunno, probably get high and watch TV,” he waved a chip in the air before putting it in his mouth. “The usual.”

“At least there, no one will assume we’re dating,” you sighed, reaching for the Pringles. Hyde moved it. You frowned at him and grabbed for it again. He took it and raised it to the side, smirking just a little, mischief in his eyes. You stretched your arm across his chest, one hand on his leg for balance, and swept your hand for the can.

“Hyde, you dick!” you hissed between your teeth. “Give it!”

“Why? This is hilarious,” he grinned, lifting the can even more. Grumbling, you sat up on your knees and snatched for the snack food. “C’mon, just little higher, sweetheart.”

“Hyde, I will end you,” you growled, so focused on the prize that you barely noticed you were shifting more and more onto his lap. His other hand was resting on your hip, his eyes trained on your lips, your jaw, your neck, and then…  _ well _ . They were right there in front of him. It would be odd of him to look at anything else, really.

You finally reached the Pringles, tugging them from his loose grip and falling back. Into his lap. Your cheeks went hot at your position, regardless of innocent intent.

His face, in turn, was fiery red.

“We should probably go,” he muttered, moving you off of him and hurrying towards the door.

“What?” you looked up, pink and embarrassed, and saw your father glaring icicles into Hyde’s back. “Oh.” You followed quickly, Pringles still in hand.


	6. Bat Out of Hell

Hyde woke in darkness to a banging on his door. It couldn’t have been long after he got into bed, because his head was aching. He rolled off the mattress and went to the door to blast whoever the hell was bothering him so late.

“What the hell is…” Hyde began with a growl before he finally registered the utter panic and fear on Eric’s face. Something inside of him twisted in worry and he woke a little more. “What happened?”

* * *

 

When Hyde was extremely emotional, he didn’t really know how to handle it. He had spent so long learning to bury his feelings, only allowing them to show in the form of sarcasm and paranoia, that the idea of expressing them was unthinkable. When Eric told him what happened, he couldn’t quite believe it, and then he didn’t know what to feel other than anger. Anger that it had happened. Anger it happened to you. Anger… for some unknown person. There was a tinge of sadness in there, worry for you, and anxiety about the whole event, but mostly, he was furious. Only because he had no idea how else to feel.

He wanted to punch something and get drunk.

But first, he had to go see you. That was priority number one.

Eric drove him to the hospital and he stormed the nurses’ desk, demanding to know your room number.

“Sir, she’s in critical care, only family…”

“I’m the only family she has right now, dammit, let me see her!”

Everything was a wash of white, blurred for some reason. He wouldn’t realize he was crying until he got to your room and everything slowed down.

You were resting on the bed, bandages around your head and your leg suspended in a cast. Your face had a collection of smeared purple and yellow bruises, your lip broken open. It looked like the collision had thrown you forward against the back of a headrest.

The doctors said it was serious, that you might wake up in an hour, a week, six months, or possibly never at all. He ignored all of that. He ignored the people asking him to leave, ignored the nurses’ glaring at him when he felt in the way but refused to leave your side, he ignored Eric when the other boy said he had to go back home.

“Do whatever you have to do, man. I’m staying.”

You weren’t waking up. He had to be here when you did. Because you would. You had to.

The next day, Eric’s mom came into the room. Hyde was sitting in the same plastic chair, only getting up to stretch and walk around before sitting back down again. He had avoided being thrown out by hiding in the bathroom for every 3 hour nurse shift, coming out when everyone else had gone. He had spent a long time staring at you, unsure what to do, when Mrs. Forman came in.

“Steven, honey, you have to rest…”

“No,” he responded, voice dead and cold. “I need to be here. She needs me here. She’ll be awake soon; it’ll be fine.”

If he didn't believe that, he didn't believe in anything. If you weren't going to be alright, neither would he.

Mrs. Forman brought in a cot and made him lay down in it. His body ached with need for sleep, but his mind was filled with nightmares of waking up without you. He shifted it as close to your bed as he could and dropped back into it, knowing rationally he needed the rest. Didn’t make him less afraid to do so.

He passed out quickly, but his dreams were not good. Life had never been kind to Steven Hyde, why should that start now?

* * *

 He woke to a hand carding his hair, just the fingertips loosely repeating small motions. He grabbed the hand and sat up, staring you in the eyes. You could barely see, the skin around them so bruised and puffy, but he saw _you_. Awake and alive.

“Hey,” he breathed, no clue what to say. He wasn't good at all that comforting crap, usually cracking a joke to loosen the tension, but at the moment, he couldn't even think of anything to say to you. _You’re here, you’re alive, I think I’ve been in love with you since we were kids_.

“Hey,” you repeated, lips twitching into a sort of smile, wincing at the way it tugged your wounded skin.

He stood, swaying, next to your bed. He was sleep-deprived and hungry, but you were awake. You were alive. _Thank God_. Hyde leaned in and, hesitating quite a bit, finally allowed himself the smallest brush of a kiss against your mouth. You felt the ghost of it tingling your skin, and when he began to pull away, your hand shot up and snagged him by the shirt.

“That all I get?” you mumbled, weak, but yourself. “I nearly died, and I'm getting weak-ass elementary school kisses?”

He grinned at your humor remaining and slanted his lips with yours once more, but this time, with actual force. Your bruises ached, but you'd sacrifice most things for a moment like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I got sucked into this fandom, and I'll die before I leave it. So now I'm stuck in a severely lacking vacuum of Hyde/Reader fanfics. Obviously that meant I had to write one. Which turned into, like, twenty, so hey. There'll be more of these, more than likely.


End file.
